In an open letter to the wretch that is today,

“I hate you. If there were a slur that could be applied to bad days, I would probably not use it, but I would be tempted to. If I were a smoker, I would have lit up two cigarettes and smoked them both, first the right hand cigarette, then the left hand cigarette. I will neither confirm nor deny spending some time today eating my feelings. You are not welcome around here. Go away forever. Die.”

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